because Holden insisted on keeping the house at approximately forty degrees Fahrenheit, and by midafternoon, I decided to go back to my room and put a second layer on. Holden had lent me a sizable collection of sweatshirts that were all too big. They looked insane on me anyway, so there was no reason not to layer up and wear two.
I was just crossing the foyer when Daisy came in the front door, stamping her boots and dislodging little avalanches of snow from her toes.
“It’s really coming down out there,” she said, setting down a giant basket covered in shiny cellophane on a table next to the suit of armor.
She unzipped her parka, revealing a bright green sweater with a picture of Rudolph on it, complete with a red cotton ball nose.
“I see Holden’s Christmas aversion doesn’t extend to his employees,” I said.
Daisy looked down at her sweater with a laugh. “He might hate it, but my mom has given me an extensive collection of ugly Christmas sweaters over the years, and I never had the chance to wear them when I was in the military. Gotta get some use out of them now.”
“Why does he hate it so much?” I asked, crossing the room to join her by the table. “Christmas, I mean.”
I knew I was being nosy, but if Holden were going to be so damn secretive, what did he expect? Maybe I was an investigative journalist or something, back in my real life, and that was why I was so full of questions. Or maybe I was just a pain in the ass.
Daisy arched an eyebrow. “Have you asked Holden about it?”
“Yeah. He kinda bit my head off.”
She smiled. “Then I’m not gonna be the one to tell you. He pays me obscenely well to do not very much. I’m not putting that in jeopardy.”
I sighed, and she gave me an assessing look.
“Listen kid, I don’t know what your deal is with Holden, if you’re some long-lost relative or what, but surely you’ve realized by now that he keeps his own counsel. He’ll tell you if he wants to. And if he doesn’t—well, the fact that you’re here at all means he trusts you more than most people. That’s something.”
Any bristling I might have done over being called kid again was swamped by the warmth and confusion I felt at the rest of Daisy’s words. Holden trusted me? It hardly seemed like it. And if he did trust me, why was he so mysterious about everything?
I gave her a half-hearted smile. “Thanks.”
“Hey, if you want some cheering up, you could probably go through that basket. I can almost guarantee there are homemade cookies in there.”
I peered through the cellophane, but all I saw was green and purple tissue paper and curly, gold ribbons.
“Isn’t it for Holden?”
Daisy nodded. “From one of his friends. But he never even opens them anymore. At this point, I bring them in and let them sit for twenty-four hours, and then Arnold and I—he’s the housekeeper, I don’t know if you’ve met yet—split whatever Holden hasn’t taken, which is usually everything. Since Arnold’s on vacation, how about I give you first dibs?”
I traced my fingertips along the cellophane speculatively.
“Go on,” Daisy said, “I’ve gotta go close up the gatehouse and bring my stuff inside for the night, before the snow gets any worse. Just promise me that if Hadley sent any of her raspberry sugar cookies, you’ll leave me one in the kitchen, alright?”
“Um. Okay.”
Daisy waved and headed back out, a swirl of white flakes billowing in the door before she shut it behind her. I regarded the basket with hesitation. It felt a little weird to just open it, but I couldn’t think of any reason Daisy would lie to me.
Besides, I thought as I spun the basket around on the table, at this point I was as curious about Holden’s identity as my own, and maybe there’d be some clue in there.
What was the name Daisy had mentioned? Hadley, that was it. Something about it tickled the back of my brain, and I couldn’t figure out why.
There was so much tissue paper that I couldn’t see any of the basket’s contents, so I had to pull all the cellophane back to get a better look. The first things I saw were three beautifully wrapped packages of cookies, each tied with a different colored velvet ribbon.
The one with a gold ribbon was labeled ‘egg nog and almond,’ the one with a purple